Nobody Knows I Moved

I keep thinking about the phrase about a wall to fall against. It sounded rehearsed, which frightened me more than an angry threat would have. Amateurs boast; frightened men use prepared lines. That means this has been planned, or at least rehearsed until it sounds natural.

I worked in the open after that because hiding felt worse. If they watched me, they could see a man being cautious. If I vanished, they would learn that I was afraid. I hated the arithmetic of it, but I made myself stay visible.

The false sighting was the useful kind of danger. I wanted them chasing the wrong woman while I learned how their network moves. Part of me was proud of that trick. Another part was ashamed because I used Anika as the bait, even if only as a description. I told myself there was no real risk. That was convenient, not convincing.

Sleeping away from my flat felt like admitting they had taken something from me without touching it. Tomorrow I will send for my guitar, my spare files, the things that make the room mine. Not tonight. Tonight I want the narrow desk, the unfamiliar noises, and no route home that anyone else knows.

I keep my phone face up in case it rings. I also keep checking the screen in case it does not. That is not courage. It is waiting for the enemy to become practical enough to announce himself.